118 A HISTORY OF LONGRIDGE. [Chap. 5. 



Like giant clouds in shape and hue 

 They tower unto the skies. 



The level plain is spread below, 



In one unbounded scene ; 

 Corn fields and meads, in various row. 



And every varying green ; 

 The rich demesne, the chequer'd ground 



Extends to ocean's brim, 

 That bounds the mighty prospect round, 



As with a golden rim. 



Yon speck, so dark amid the plain. 



Is Hoghton's ruin'd Tower ; 

 Deserted is the wide domain. 



And silent hall and bower ;' 

 Yet oft, of yore, wild mirth has play'd 



Around the festive board. 

 Where knighthood on the loin was laid 



By James's royal sword. 



And there the gentle Ribble goes, 



By varied hill and plain ; 

 Than which no lovelier river flows 



Down to the western main ; 

 Its banks, as fair as banks of Thames, 



Are decked with castles hoar ; 

 Once the abode of men whose names 



And memory are no more. 



Yet mourn not, river ! other names 



And other halls are thine. 

 And lovely are the towers and dames, 



Around thy port that shine. 

 Fair are the groves, the meads, the vales, 



Through which thy currents run. 

 And sweetly glance thy gliding sails 



Beneath the western sun. 



Bright is the scene ; and over all 



The sun's last beams are shed. 

 Upon yon glittering roofs they fall, 



And gild yon mountain's head ; 

 A soft light o'er the forest fling, 



Whose deepening shadows rise ; 

 While, overhead, the skylarks sing 



Their vespers in the skies. 



'Now, as is well-known. Sir Charles Tower, 



de Hoghton, Bart., is living at Hoghton 



